One-shot, inspired by feelings ('feelings' being another word for Supernatural.)
Written whilst on holiday in Cambodia, which is an amazing and fascinating country.
That is all.
Enjoy
"How it felt"
Castiel remembers how it felt to break Sam's wall, to crack his mind open so all of Hell would fall through.
It felt like punching a hole in drywall, like slamming his palm down hard onto still water.
It felt like a breath on a feather, it was that fragile.
Cass tries not to remember the simple feeling of his fingers on Sam's temple.
Tries not to remember the look in Sam's eyes, turning to face him, knowing there was something to fear but not knowing what.
Not even really fearing yet for it was so shapeless and for it was Cass.
Cass had heard Sam still believing Cass would never hurt him right up until the moment he did.
Castiel had done a lot of wrong, trying to fix the world. He'd killed a lot of angels and he'd killed a lot of people. He'd unleashed monsters he didn't know how to cage.
He regretted all of these things, but the guilt for the grander things was no more than the guilt for hurting that single person, Sam. Cass may have killed other people, but he had not destroyed them utterly. He hadn't used his knowledge gained in the trust of friendship to most efficiently and effectively end them.
It didn't really help that Sam had forgiven him because Cass was left with the feeling that he ought not to.
It made Cass feel like a strange creature that Sam could look at him and all he had done and come to the conclusion that yes, he would trust him again.
Not only that; he would fight with him, defend him.
Journey with him.
Joke with him.
Even after all this, even now, Sam could look at the past and find it within himself to say "I know you only tried to help," when Castiel, looking at the past, only found that afterwards he couldn't look at Sam in the eye or himself in the mirror.